On Parting
Meta Timing: 26 November 2024, the night before the Joneses ship out to Hong Kong Setting: 2nd Darling-Jones house Text The back door opens. Someone steps inside. Charlie's out of the too-big bed and down the stairs just as Jackson has his shoes off. He catches her in a hug. "Hey, Darling," he whispers into her hair. "Hey, Jones," she croaks. {"Five months, one week, three days, seventeen hours."} {"What's that mean?"} {"Last time we touched."} {"I stopped counting at 'too long'."} Jackson sighs, holds her tighter. They stay there, breathe together. But too soon ... "I need to see the babies." Charlie doesn't move. "Charlie ...." "I know, just ...." She takes a shuddering breath, peels away. ' ' [Jackson looks at her through his lashes, smiles weakly. He pads across the house, up the stairs, down the hallway. Charlie trails behind. His hand hovers above the knob to the babies' door. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, squares himself up, pushes open the door. "Hey, beans," he calls softly. "Mmmmr?" says Book. Baby sits up, blinks in the light spilling through the door. ' ' "Dad! Why're you here so late?" "Only time I could get away before I left on a trip," he rasps. Book brightens. "Where're you going?" "Hong Kong. In China." "Will you bring something back for us?" "I'll try, Monkey, but I might not be able to go shopping. I'm gonna be really busy." He swallows. "An' I won't be, um, back for at least a month. May-maybe longer." "Aww …."] ' ' Jackson takes her hand. "This's {probably} the last time we'll each other. Face-to-face, at least." "Wha? Why?" Lets his head fall onto Charlie's shoulder. "I— Me and Logan won't survive this." Swallows. "They're sending us to Hong Kong to d— kill us." "Jackson—" "'m sorry. We'll do all we can, but I'm not sure— We can't— we're not strong enough {anymore}. We were s'posed to die in September, but—" "Don't say that—" "You hafta be ready. You'll need—" "Shut up! You're not gonna die!" "I— there's nothing we can do to stop it." A harsh knock at the door. "Gimme a minute!" calls Jackson. Holds her more tightly, buries his face in her shoulder. "I don't wanna go. {I don't wanna die.}" "You don't have to! Maybe Jamie's—" The rap comes again, louder. Jackson kisses her neck, straightens. "I'm coming!" Charlie presses herself as close as she can. Jackson tucks her under his chin. "Don't want them to break the door down again." "Could burn the house to cinders for all I care." A third rap, loudest yet. "I said, I'm coming!" Jackson cups her cheeks, kisses her. She covers his hands with hers. "I'm sorry, Firefly." Jackson entwines their fingers, squeezes, and lets go. Pats the railing, smiles over his shoulder, goes down the first step. And the next. Charlie's pulled along in his wake. Jackson puts his hand on the doorknob, looks over his shoulder. "I love you," he says softly. 'I know,' mouths Charlie. He smiles, turns away, and opens the door—laces his fingers behind his head—to a half-circle of rifles and drops to his knees. The uniformed men on the stoop haul him away. Charlie closes the door. Category:Ficlet Category:Work in Progress Category:Charlie Category:Jackson Category:Uniforms Category:The 2nd House